


Lead Me Home to the Place Where I Belong

by baku_midnight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Cats, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: Dean and Cas, the cats, navigate the obstacles of Purrgatory, er, rather, the cat shelter, looking for their happily ever after.





	Lead Me Home to the Place Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my folder for literal years, and I figure now's the time to post it, what with the series finally winding down. There were some tumblrs, way back when, that illustrated the boys as cats and I basically owe inspiration for this fic to those. Also, I dedicate this to my cat, Cupcake, who passed away two years ago and I still miss her. Thank you, kitty, for being with me all those years.

The sunshine was heavenly. Dean rolled happily over on the gravel drive, stretching on his side and basking in the light. He could pass hours like this in the sun; the middle of summertime was good for nothing better than relaxing in the heat.

Living in the scrapyard was comfortable and safe, for the most part. There were sharp things on the ground to step on but Dean was pretty good at avoiding them—he remembered picking rocks and pointy things out of Sam’s feet when he was a kitten more than enough times to scorch a permanent reminder into his mind of the dangers of gravel drives—but all in all, it was good living. The man who used to feed them died a few months ago and they took him away and boarded up the home, but Sam and Dean were hiding under the cars when the people came, so no one found them to take them. There were plenty of mice and garter snakes and little birds to hunt, so they were comfortable and well-fed, and free to roam the grounds at their own pace, day in, day out.

It wasn’t the same as it was living on the farm with their mom and dad, but that was a long time ago, and Dean wondered if Sam even remembered that time. After mom died from eating some poisoned food someone had left out, it was Sam and Dean on their own for the most part because dad skulked off not long afterwards.

Dean could hardly blame his father—he was pretty fed up with humans after that himself, but dad wanted nothing more to do with them. He would wander off into the woods for weeks on end, returning with more scratches and bite-wounds and holes in his ears every time, until finally the last time he came back, he was…_different. _His jaw was slack and saliva bubbled out of it non-stop. When Dean tried to lick his wounds his father would snap at him, claws bared and teeth gnashing, like he had lost his mind, and was only consumed by fighting. It wasn’t long after that that humans came to take him away, scooping him and Sam and Dean into two separate boxes with holes in them, and taking them away from the farm for good. But when Dean and Sam got out of their box, dad was nowhere to be seen, and Dean knew, even without seeing the evidence, that he was dead and the humans had killed him.

Dean couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief, which he would never,_ ever_ admit to, when he knew that dad was at last gone for good. He tried to remember what the old tom was like before mom died, before the forest, when he was good-natured but distant, with a sleek mane and massive paws to rival the finest wild tom, and a kind poise that practically shone with pride in his family. But it was hard to get that image of his father, once his hero, driven raving and snapping and choking on his own bile, out of his mind.

He and Sam were moved into a house with lots of clear boxes filled with baby cats, and baby dogs and rats, too. They slept all day in the same box while many humans walked past them, knocking loudly on the dirty clear wall of their box and murmuring at each other, flashing lights in their faces. After a few days of reckless scrabbling at the glass in response to the prodding, Dean eventually got used to the noise, and learned to sleep through it, ignoring the disruptions of the visitors until an old human came one day and picked him and Sam up, taking the siblings into his home in the scrapyard.

At the house with all of the other baby cats in it, they were also given weird, itchy pebbles that were shoved under their skin at the backs of their necks. Even Sam couldn’t figure out what they possibly could be for—the way the humans cooed and petted them after the sting of the barb was pressed under their skin, probably meant they thought the pebbles were _helping_ the cats in some way, but Dean couldn’t imagine how a sharp pinch and a weird, throbbing itch beneath the skin, which he could still remember on occasion years later, could help anything. One of Sam’s theories was that the humans put them in so they could take them out later, so they could remember which cat they put them in. It sounded farfetched, since humans didn’t seem to have trouble telling one cat from another, so Dean let it slip from his mind.

The two brothers lived happily in the scrapyard for many years. The old man let them go in and out of the house as they pleased and fed them every day, and praised them when they brought mice, rats and snakes as offering and thanks to his doormat. After he died, Sam and Dean stayed out in the yard all day, forced to hide under cars when it rained and hunt for mice not to present as gifts, but to eat.

Dean couldn’t help but think about the fact that every human they had had either died or had them taken away, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t hold a grudge against the giant animals like his father did. Surely humans suffered when their mates were taken away, too, and baby humans hurt when they lost their mothers, just the same as cats did. But still, despite his lingering sympathy for the lumbering beasts, Dean was still fairly cautious about running into humans again, ducking under a car whenever he heard their voices or the messy footfalls of their giant feet.

Sam, on the other hand, was fascinated by humans—while still maintaining a healthy attentiveness to their threat. He could understand some of their language and could even tell what some of their markings meant. He knew what boxes had food inside, and more importantly, he could recognize the mark for “poison”. He could tell which of the tasty-looking packages and boxes around the scrapyard were not safe to eat, even if the crumbles inside looked so much like dry food.

Dean got up, stretching first his front legs, then the back ones, relishing in the tingling feeling that crept up his thighs and made his skin prickle. He started to walk the yard as the sun began to go down, leaving long cool patches under the cars, slashing the gravel with long, car-shaped swaths of shade. He peered here and there, dipping his head into holes, nibbling at patches of grass, soothed by the pressure on his gums. He looked up when he reached the back wall and squinted into the fading light.

Then, Dean saw _him._

_Another. Cat._

He was moving so silently Dean hadn’t heard him, standing downwind so Dean couldn’t catch his scent. An intruder, a hunter? Or was he just lost?

He was long and lean with black fur that had lighter and darker stripes, not in even rows like the lines of shadows on the gravel, but in haphazard patches across his body. He was about the same size as Dean, if a bit leaner, like he hadn’t spent the first years of his life getting meat hand-fed to him by a doting human like Dean had.

Dean stared in awe. The strange cat was fascinating, walking elegantly and silently across the back fence, paws landing soundlessly against the ledge, slim hips swaying back and forth as he travelled effortlessly, tail held high in the air.

Dean wondered where the strange tomcat was from. Had he lived here all along, in hiding? How long had he been here while Dean slept? Was he going to try and take over Dean’s territory? Did he have a human? Had he ever even _seen_ a human?

Dean was too busy gawping he didn’t even think to go after the stranger, and in moments he was gone, taking his sleek body with him and leaving no trace of a scent behind. Dean sniffed at the air woefully, rose-coloured nose crinkling hopefully before he gave up and stalked away, back to his nest.

Sam was lying on his side, tail flopping distractedly when Dean approached. Unlike Dean’s sleek, short coat, Sam’s fur was much longer, matching his dad’s, so he got hot much easier than Dean and preferred to stay in the shade all day when he could. Dean could practically feel the heat coming off of Sam when he arrived and shuffled up next to him, settling down on his haunches.

“I saw a cat out there,” Dean said, staring off, still caught in sort of a dream-stride.

“Where is his territory?” Sam asked, tail flapping hard, making thumping noises when it smacked against the dirt. Despite his insistence that territory battles were for wild cats and not sophisticated domestic cats like himself, his alpha-male instincts did flare up on occasion, to Dean’s approval.

“I don’t know,” Dean shook his head. “I don’t even know if he _has_ a home.”

“Maybe you were seeing things,” Sam said pragmatically, practically sighing with relief as the sun finally sank out of sight, casting the sky in a dark blanket, significantly cooler than the white-bright one of the day.

“No, he was definitely real,” Dean answered emphatically, clenching the claws of one front paw restlessly, nails retracting and tightening subconsciously. “He was amazing. Thin—but his fur was so _smooth_—and there wasn’t a scratch on him. And he was completely clean, for a wild cat.”

Sam raised an eyebrow appraisingly, then dropped his head to the ground, stretching out his long body to get ready for sleep. “He sounds unreal.”

“He was,” Dean agreed. “I want to…to_ fight _him, you know?” Dean had stars in his eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly what impulse he was feeling, but he knew it involved a lot of energy.

“Or _mount_ him,” Sam muttered dryly, slipping a forepaw under his chin, resting his head in the thick fur.

“He’s a _tom,_ Sam, I can’t _mount _him,” Dean said with distaste, and Sam rolled his eyes before closing them to sleep.

Dean slept for a few hours, but he was kept up with thoughts of the mystery tom, solitary, moving silent as the night. He woke up when it was dark, shivering as he stretched, getting immediately to his feet and stalking off towards the yard.

He kept a watchful eye on the shadows between the cars, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange tom. A flicker of shiny eyes caught his attention and Dean leapt forward without thinking.

The tomcat went stiff and hissed in surprise, instantly backing out of Dean’s reach, back arching, expecting a fight. Dean relaxed his posture, trying to send out a friendly pheromone but struggling to keep calm while his heart was beating so frantically it was practically bouncing about in his chest.

The tomcat stared at Dean for a tense moment, perfectly still. His eyes shone so bright in the dark, his black fur making him practically disappear into the shadows.

Suddenly, the cat seemed to sense an opening and ran, leaping elegantly past Dean, close enough that Dean felt the wind rush past him. He jumped back with the pure shock of the encounter and chased urgently after the mystery cat.

“Wait!” Dean called desperately, pouncing and sprinting through the cars after the stranger. The cat dashed into the woods and Dean skidded to a halt—the strange cat left no scent, and he was so fast and so skilled at disappearing into the shadows that it would be impossible to tell which way he went. Dean sniffed at the air, peering down the paths through the undergrowth before giving up and skulking back to his nest, shoulders slumped.

*

For the next few weeks Dean only ever saw the mystery tom out of the corner of his eye, a flash of movement, an errant tuft of fur. On rainy days he was up all day worrying about the stranger, to Sam’s great amusement.

“You always were the caretaker type,” Sam commented, after the brothers had shared a meal of mice, picked over thoroughly in the small, overgrown garden on the edge of the car yard.

“Only because_ you_ needed so much _taking care_ of!” Dean teased and nudged Sam with his forehead.

The brothers wandered back to an empty car that was open, letting the wind in, and climbed up on the bench in the rear of it. They snuggled close and groomed each other like they had been doing since they were kittens, Dean’s rough tongue combing through Sam’s unruly mane without complaint. Ever since they were grown Sam had gotten burrs in his fur much easier due to its length, and Dean remembered spending evenings carefully chewing the knots from the fur of his belly where his brother couldn’t reach.

Dean’s mind was quite preoccupied, really, and he was glad for the diversion of a thorough grooming session. He hadn’t felt the mystery tom’s presence over his shoulder at all lately, and despite his best efforts to draw him near, the cat remained elusive as a puff of wind, impossible to catch. Sam hadn’t even seen him once, and he probably thought the mysterious stranger was a figment of Dean’s imagination.

“What do you suppose cars are?” Dean asked absently, licking the dirt from his own front paw, biting down roughly at the webs between the pads to dislodge the worst of the grime. He knew humans loved cars—and put plenty of energy into grooming them, if the old man was an indication—but he didn’t know exactly what they possibly could be used for, besides sleeping in.

“I think they’re homes that move,” Sam said thoughtfully, lapping at his mane.

“So they’re animals?!” Dean asked back, doubtful, nose scrunching in distaste. Had they really been lodging all this time inside a giant beast?

“No, I think humans move them,” Sam explained, looking up from his bath, “instead of walking. I’m pretty sure—”

“Yeah, right. They don’t even have any legs, unless they’re sleeping on them. How could they possibly—” Dean trailed off, tongue stopping mid-swipe and hanging out of his mouth as he gaped across the yard. Sam went on attempting to explain his theory but Dean didn’t hear a word, his attention fully captured by a figure in the distance.

It was him.

Dean leapt forward without even thinking, running full-sprint towards the cat in the distance. He wasn’t letting him get away this time, no matter what. This time, he would…he’d…

This time, the cat froze in place behind a car long enough for Dean to catch up and throw himself at the unsuspecting tom, launching his body at the cat in attempt to knock him over. The black cat took the full force of Dean’s barrage and barely even stumbled, stepping back and swatting at Dean with one paw.

Dean quickly lowered his tail and straightened up his ears to show he didn’t want to fight, not genuinely, at least, and watched tensely as the other cat mirrored him. The black fur smoothed down—so, _so_ smooth, Dean felt faint—and the cat’s ears rose up, framing his face beautifully. He had a narrow body but a sweet, round face, fur dark black with lighter patches here and there, and his nose and fur of his cheeks was a light dusky brown. Dean couldn’t help but just stare, and he realized he probably looked like a moron presenting himself to a stranger, basically _asking_ for his territory to be claimed, but he couldn’t stop looking. The cat blinked back at him, and then made a move to leave and Dean reacted automatically, pouncing and throwing his arms about the cat’s neck and biting down on his scruff like he used to do when he wanted to carry Sammy.

The cat squirmed easily out of his grip and tried to rise up on his back feet in defense, but slipped and fell to three feet, flexing his raised front paw at Dean. The pads of his toes were black. Dean had never seen that before. The more he looked, the less real the new cat seemed... but his gawking was interrupted by a swipe at his face, no claws, just a slim paw connecting with his cheek.

Dean huffed and frowned at the black cat who was just staring at him, wide-eyed. He was so unusual, but so stunning at the same time. While he sat astounded the cat sped into a sprint so quickly it was as though he had disappeared, and Dean had to crane his neck up to see him climbing a stack of cars.

“Hey!” Dean called, and started to race after him. His paws skidded on the slippery surface of the cars; there was nowhere to grip into with his claws. He climbed, up and up, the mystery tom so much more deft and swift than he was it was almost infuriating, and Dean momentarily resented his habit of pinching table scraps whenever he could, as it made him soft and doughy compared to the creature who was cut nearly to the bone with sleek muscle.

Dean felt his forefeet connect with the top of the topmost car, but then they slid, and the horrible, raw, screeching feel of his claws scraping the metal made his teeth hurt as he slid back towards the edge. He was now dangling, hind legs scrabbling to find purchase and failing in what must’ve been a shameful display he was glad Sam wasn’t around to see—his hindquarters flailing in the air, legs kicking at nothing. Dean felt the cold night air beneath him and realized there was little holding him back from crashing to the ground.

Just as his forepaws lost their strength, Dean felt teeth gripping the back of his neck, and dragging him upwards in the most undignified fashion. He had no choice but to go limp, allowing himself to be ascended up to the top of the car. His saviour, the mystery tom, stood blinking at him while Dean righted himself.

“Who are you?” Dean asked, breathless.

“I’m the one who saved your tail,” the tom said, and suddenly he was…smiling? It was a small, almost awkward thing, somewhat unpracticed, but so surreally striking Dean couldn’t look away.

The tom’s narrowed eyes and soft mouth made him look all the more stunning, Dean wanted to move forward and nuzzle him—so he did.

The cat swerved out of the way. Dean pawed at him, this time awarded with another paw in the face for his efforts. He chuckled and rose up on his haunches, pouncing forward when the other cat dashed out of the way and back down the stack of cars.

They chased each other in a circle, laughing, playing, until it was as though they’d known each other for years. Play-fighting with the strange cat was so comfortable, Dean felt more free than he had in years, since back on the farm, when he and Sam were safe and taken care of and had nothing to worry about but each other. The black cat galloped across the gravel, bounding on his hind legs like a predator, smacking his paw at Dean and smiling at him, black fur glistening in the moonlight.

Dean rose up on his hind legs and the other cat mirrored him and they lunged at each other at the same time, front legs tangled together, until they toppled over to the ground. Dean chomped down on the cat’s neck to hold him down, expecting a counter-attack as the other cat rolled over onto his back as if to _kick_ him, but then—oh.

Ooh.

_Ooooh._

He was being submissive. And if Dean wasn’t mistaken…_affectionate_. The cat arched his back and licked a long stripe up Dean’s throat, ending just at the corner of his mouth and his ultra-sensitive scent-glands. Dean felt a shiver run up his spine, his fur standing up all along his back.

“You’re strange,” the mystery cat said, and his voice—it was low and gentle, but powerful. Dean blinked a few times before realizing the cooing sound he could hear was the cat’s purring. Dean had never heard a cat purr so profoundly—the sound was melodious and instantly soothing. And boy, was it _loud_.

“I’m Dean,” he spouted automatically, staring down at the other cat in awe/shock/wonder, while the other cat stared up at him with a mix of joy and affection the likes of which Dean hadn’t seen since his parents died.

“Hello, Dean,” the mystery cat replied, “I’m Castiel.”

_Castiel._ Dean felt like his heart was in his mouth as the cat nudged his cheek with his own by way of a greeting.

“Come live with me,” Dean said without hesitation. Castiel’s purring grew impossibly louder and he laughed a breathy chuckle as his pupils dilated with joy.

“Okay,” he answered, and snuggled with Dean until Dean finally clued in and stepped off of him, and led him back to their nest.

Dean was a little concerned that Sam wouldn’t get along with Cas—who, when Dean first used the nickname on him, leapt up and kissed the side of his face with such utter enthusiasm Dean almost fell over—but he need not have worried, apparently. Sam stared in awe as Cas approached, clearly impressed and a little bit shocked by the fact that he was, in fact, _real. _Castiel stood patiently still while Sam circled him, sniffing at his tail and ears with rapt interest. Cas bowed his head for Sam to lick while Dean watched proudly.

That first night, they slept curled together in one big pile, Cas against Sam’s belly and Dean’s body circled around both of them.

*

After a bit more of getting to know each other, the brothers came to learn that Castiel was born wild, and had never lived with humans. He travelled in somewhat loose association with his many brothers and sisters—in the same territory but with a wide space between each cat, protecting the borders of their wood—at first in a large group, then in twos, until about last winter when they went separate ways, a rainstorm driving them all in different directions. They also learned that Cas was—by his count, which he admitted was uncertain, at this point—at least 10 winters old to Dean and Sam’s respective four and three.

“But if you’re older, _we_ should be submissive to _you!_” Dean gasped punitively, and Cas just shook his head.

“You’ve lived here longer than me, it’s only fair I defer to you in _your _territory,” he insisted, rolling over onto his back when they lied together, and ducked his head to be groomed.

“Where is your territory?” Dean asked, mouth full of tender black hairs.

Cas shrugged. “Far, far away. A place that no longer exists, I think. If it does, I wouldn’t be allowed back.”

It was odd, Castiel’s sense of instinct, but Dean supposed as a wildcat, his senses were different. Besides, Dean was beginning to suspect that he liked the attention more than following submission-domination rules to a T. He would roll over to let Dean groom his belly, and snuggle up to him whenever he got the chance. When they slept, Castiel’s purring was so loud it drowned out all other sound. Dean fell asleep to the insistent, driving rhythm, his head on Cas’s belly, or tucked under the black cat’s chin.

They lived as a trio for many sun-ups, hunting, prowling, eating, sleeping. Hunting, it turned out, was much easier with three than with two: one cat would chase their prey out of hiding and another would block its escape, then the third could leap out and attack while it was cornered. Cas was a fierce hunter, and soon the three had created a system efficient enough that they caught all their food in minutes, leaving more time in the day for…well, other things.

Dean and Castiel climbed up to the highest point in the yard, a ledge rising high above the rest, attached to a truck, a small shelf just big enough for the two of them to lie and watch the moon go up. Castiel lay stretched out with his back against Dean’s belly, the two laying leisurely on their sides on the still-warm truck’s skin, while Dean groomed his wildcat with a casual affection he hadn’t thought himself capable of until recently.

Dean nuzzled at the soft fur behind Castiel’s ears, basking in the feel of silky fur pressed all along his belly. He stroked Castiel’s head with long, languid swipes of his tongue, trailing down to his throat and up to the ultra-sensitive scent-glands at the corners of his mouth.

“Dean…” the wildcat moaned, purring growing frantically louder and faster. He reached up to swat at Dean to ease the attentions to his over-sensitive glands, but Dean swept a foreleg over him and held his paws down so he could lick and nip at his lips and chin uninterrupted. “Oh, _Dean_…” Castiel breathed as the other cat assaulted his glands with pointed, driven strokes of his tongue, driving his partner’s pleasure higher and higher.

Dean finally relented when Cas’s purring was erratic and his tail was thumping out of control against the shelf. Castiel turned to gaze lovingly over at Dean, panting lightly but thoroughly sated. He licked appreciatively at the underside of Dean’s chin, where the fur was white and soft.

“I’m glad I found you,” Castiel said softly while he groomed. Dean let his eyes slide shut, enjoying the attention, Castiel’s smell filling his nostrils and his purring in his ears, realizing he hadn’t felt this comfortable and content in years. Maybe ever.

“I thought _I _found _you_,” Dean answered, hearing Castiel’s throaty chuckle beneath his chin.

*

The sun-ups went on, growing colder and shorter and the trio was faced with the problem of how to tackle the upcoming winter. If they went into the woods, they would find shelter, but they would risk drawing the attention of the raccoons, coyotes and other creatures that called the area home. If they stayed in the scrapyard, they had safety and warmth among the familiar cars, but would have to hunt in the snow for increasingly scarce prey. Dean fretted and debated about it in his mind, consulting Sam, who was more at home nearer to human settlement, and Cas, who was prepared to fare in the wilderness. It was a difficult choice, but they had plenty of time to decide before the cold became unbearable and forced them to make a decision.

One day, while the mornings were still greeted by dew and the dust on the ground remained tortoise-shell brown and dry, Dean awoke to the deafening sound of crashing and snapping, so loud it echoed all across the scrapyard before resounding back to him, again and again, the pounding filling his ears and throbbing up through his limbs. To his horror, Sam and Cas were nowhere in sight; Dean assumed they had gone off to investigate the clamour on their own, but if something happened to them that made them unable to come back to him...

It sounded like the cracking and crunching of great huge trees falling over, smashing to the ground, crushing all in their wake. Dean looked up at the stacks of cars above him to see that they were swaying and falling like arbours in a storm.

Dean was terrified. He tried to keep moving forward in search of Sam and Cas, but every crash had him dashing instinctively under things to hide and by the time he got the nerve to come out again he forgot which way he was going and just ended up running about in circles.

It sounded like a huge beast was coming towards their home, growling and gnashing its jaws, every creaking footfall making earthquakes that shook the ground. Distantly he heard the rattling sound of cars, and the screeching of them scraping against each other, like the sounds they’d made when the old man worked, taking them apart and pounding them back together. Dean was disoriented, he had no idea what to focus on, he couldn’t concentrate on what direction the sounds were coming from, and there were new, ugly smells filling the air and dust being kicked up all around him.

Then, he spotted, perhaps most confusingly, a human. He saw her feet first, then her face when she dropped down onto her hind-legs like she was going to pounce, but she remained still. She extended a front-paw towards him and started to coo in her strange, complicated language.

It wasn’t hard to tell that the human wanted him to come to her, but he didn’t know exactly why. Perhaps she could offer shelter from the clamour, or food, as humans tended to do—when they weren’t _poisoning_ cats, of course. Still, she seemed like a friendly alternative to the commotion going on behind him, so he started to walk forward. The female human remained still, allowing Dean to come close and sniff at her forepaw, then, without warning, she pounced, and caught Dean by the scruff of his neck.

She raised him into the air with one forepaw clenched around his skin at the back of his neck, like his mother used to do to carry him. He hissed and struggled to get out of her grip, but he could do little more than puff up his tail and bash at her with his legs in the restrained state she held him in. She was skilled—Dean wondered if she hunted cats often.

The human carried him over to another human who was holding Sam in the same fashion, and a third who was hoisting Cas.

“Don’t you touch them!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, his struggling renewed tenfold when he saw the two. He kicked and swiveled his hips until the skin at his neck burned from the stretch and strain. “Get your hands off of my brother! Don’t touch my friend! Don’t you hurt them!”

Sam’s fur was up on end, making him look twice his already massive size, but he seemed to have elected not to struggle to avoid injuring himself. His long limbs hung loosely in the air, claws bared as the human carried him towards a car.

Cas, on the other hand, was struggling with all his might. He was hissing and spitting, loud, long growls pouring constantly out of his lithe, powerful frame as he thrashed and fought to escape. But it was no use. The human’s grip on his neck made it impossible for him to escape without seriously injuring himself, which Dean was beginning to fear might happen.

“Cas!” Dean called to get his attention and move it away from his struggle, but the cat was too panicked to respond, and Dean panicked in kind—this might be the first time Cas had ever even _seen_ a human, and he probably expected he was going to be killed and eaten by the huge, powerful beast with an unbreakable grip and long hind-legs.

The three of them were lowered into separate boxes-with-holes, and Dean was no longer able to see his brother and friend, but he could smell the anxious pheromones they were giving off. Their boxes were placed in a car and just as they got their bearings the car started to rumble and shake and groan like a giant beast. Dean went into full panic-mode. He couldn’t hear Sam or Cas, couldn’t call to them and ask if they were alright. All he could hear was the constant rumbling of the car, like a wicked, angry purring.

If Sam’s prediction was right and the car was used for moving from place to place, then they were being moved, likely far away from their home. Dean realized they would probably never see the scrapyard again.

Dean strained his ears desperately over the racket to hear a soft, low whine—and realized it was Cas. He’d never heard such a meek sound from his resilient partner before, and it made his stomach knot itself frantically.

“Cas,” Dean called back, struck by his own helplessness, but trying to make his voice sound braver than he was feeling inside, “I’m here. It’ll be okay.”

“Dean,” a forlorn wail returned, “_Dean.”_

*

The three of them were taken to a house with a bunch of shiny boxes in it, all stacked on top of each other. When they arrived, the humans felt around Dean’s neck for the itchy pebble under his skin, then shuffled the two brothers into the same box. If Sam was right and the pebble was for humans to be able to tell which cats they were, then it meant the humans knew who _they _were—but Cas, Dean realized with a sudden, sinking horror, didn’t have one. They put him in a box far enough away that Dean couldn’t see or hear him, or smell him over the scents of the other cats in the building.

This house was odd. The cats there were all of different ages, Dean could tell by their scents, and some of them sick, some old and weak, and very few yearlings. It wasn’t like the glass house Dean and Sam went to as babies. This place had a sense of foreboding, of loss and fear that hung like a fog over the whole place.

Humans came in and out of the house at random times while the sun was up, including some baby humans that Dean couldn’t help but notice. Human kittens were very loud and had high, squeaky voices, and they didn’t stroke fur as much as hold and _pull._ Dean liked the baby humans, especially the noises they made—as long as they kept their paws to themselves.

When the sun went down, the house was quiet and Dean finally settled down to snuggle with Sam. He couldn’t help the feeling of relief that flowed through him at the touch of Sam’s long fur against his nose, closing his eyes and just appreciating that he was safe. If it really was those itchy pebbles that meant that he and his brother got to stay together, he’d never been so grateful for humans.

Except that they took Cas away.

Dean didn’t know what to do. Despite what his dad had taught him, he’d discovered humans to be mostly reasonable, fair beings: the family at the farm, and the old man who kept them safe all those years, they’d all been good humans, sensible humans, humans who could be trusted. He was torn between hating them for separating Cas from them, and needing their help to get to him.

In the din, Dean heard a near-silent cooing, a soft mewling that seemed to come from miles away. It was meek, scared, like a lot of the voices in the room, but it was also astonishingly familiar.

“Cas…?” Dean muttered, then, “Cas!” He scrambled to his feet, so fast his feet skidded on the flimsy blanket in their box. Sam scrambled up too, big limbs traipsing to the front of their box.

“Cas! Where are you?!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his nose into the space between the shiny sticks that made up his and Sam’s box.

“Dean!” Castiel cried back, voice shaky.

“Cas! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Dean couldn’t help his trembling limbs, desperately trying to keep his voice level.

“Dean…I—I don’t like this!” came the whimpered reply, “I don’t want to be in this box!”

Dean’s heart leapt into his mouth, he felt like he was choking, he couldn’t breathe. Cas was in pain and Dean couldn’t help him, couldn’t reach him. He couldn’t even get out of this damn cage!

“I have to get to him. He’s scared, Sam!” Dean pleaded with his brother, but Sam was already on the task, biting at the sideways-stick that held the box closed.

“The humans,” Sam withdrew from the lever with a look like he’d tasted something foul. He pawed at the small stick, his claws making clicking noises against the strange material, “they press on this, and the box opens, but I can’t quite—”

Dean lunged at the stick, tugging desperately. His teeth slipped on the hard surface and no matter how hard he bit it didn’t budge, and he bit until his jaw began to hurt from the pressure.

He pulled back and called out immediately to Cas, but by now the commotion had alerted enough of the other inhabitants that they were awake and crying, so Castiel’s voice was lost in the clamour.

“I’ll come find you, Cas!” Dean cried, one last time, his lungs aching and throat raw, “I promise! Just sit tight, I’ll be there!”

*

Dean didn’t sleep all night. All he could think about was Cas alone and frightened. It was probably the first time he’d ever _seen_ a human, let alone been _picked up_ by one, or been put inside a box. It was frustrating, horrible, not being able to get to him. He spent the night sharpening his claws on the blanket, flexing his toes and pulling, so hard his claws _ached._

When the sun was up, the humans let the cats out of their boxes in groups and put them in a small area inside filled with blankets and fuzzy trees. There were also dead mice lying all around—or so Sam and Dean immediately thought, eyeing each other doubtfully as they stepped into the small space. Sam flicked one of the mice over with his paw, and then when he bit down on it he found it wasn’t even a_ real_ mouse, it just looked like one. Why it was there was another question—but some of the cats seemed to like flicking it around, pretending it was alive. Some of the older cats, whose eyes were going, probably didn’t know the difference.

During their time out of their cages, Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Dean reasoned he was with the other cats that remained in their cages, too old or sick for exercise. Castiel was neither, though—his unwarranted seclusion added frustration on top of Dean’s panic.

They met a few other cats, though. Benny was a huge, meaty old tom with holes in both ears, whom Dean just stared at in awe after their initial sizing-up had revealed just how huge he was. They became short friends, although Sam remained suspicious of his wild scent.

It wasn’t long before they asked about Cas.

“Of course I seen him, his box’s right next’a mine,” Benny remarked blithely as he settled at the base of the furry tree, his body balanced gracefully despite his stature. Sam and Dean watched with baited breath as the old tom licked at one paw and washed it over his head, pressing down his mangled ears, tilting his head to say almost conspiratorially, “he’s a wild. Like me.”

Dean felt like he could faint with relief, though his heart was still pumping out of his chest, now he knew Cas was alive, and had a window to him. “Is he okay? Is he sick? Why won’t the humans let him out?”

Benny cocked his head. “I don’t know howda tell you this, brother, but I seen his kind before.”

Dean drew closer to Benny, helpless as a moth to a porch light. “What do you mean?”

“Wilds like him, sometimes they go out too deep in the woods, and get in too many tussles with the locals, and something happens to ’em, messes ’em up good.

“They get sick. Start drooling all the time. Get real moody, like anything’ll set them off, and they won’t let anybody touch ’em. And they’ll fight _anything_, ’till they die.”

Dean’s jaw hardened shut. It sounded like…no, it definitely was. Like dad, near the end. Drooling, irrational, manic, not afraid of anything… it sounded just like what happened to dad. Dean looked over at Sam to see the realization hit him at the same time. Sam had barely opened his eyes; he probably didn’t know exactly what it meant back then, but he’d figured it out since. It wasn’t something they talked about: their father, the strongest, bravest tom Dean had ever known, reduced to a feral, convulsing, miserable thing before the eyes of his children.

Nothing like the cat who was strong, sleek, poised, smart…and kind, brave, _beautiful_… nothing like Castiel. Dean couldn’t see him be anything but.

“No. Not Cas,” Dean said adamantly, “you don’t know him like I do.”

“I’m sorry, brother, but it’s the only thing. He don’t eat, barely sleeps, and when the humans come to take him, he hisses and scratches up a storm,” Benny insisted. The calm, sympathetic expression on his face did nothing to calm Dean’s nerves as the image of Cas hurting, scared, and unable to sleep every night filled up his head. He thumped his tail against the floor.

“_No_,” Dean argued back, “he’s just_ scared_. He doesn’t know what’s happening!”

Benny’s expression fell. Dean turned to Sam.

“Sam, _you know him_._ I_ know him. Better than anyone. He wouldn’t act like that unless he was really scared –he’s not used to being around humans.”

“Exactly, Dean,” Sam answered firmly. “You’re closer to him than anyone. So don’t you think that maybe…” he looked like he was trying to let Dean down easy, and it was scary, seeing his brother so pragmatically dismissing Cas, like he was nothing better than a stranger, “maybe you’re not the best one to be making this sort of judgment?”

Dean shook his head, backing away from Sam on the slippery ground. His hind-feet slid out from under him and he caught himself before collapsing in a pathetic heap on the ground. He couldn’t believe it. Maybe Cas was…well, Dean had only known him for a short while, and he’d lived in the woods for far longer before that. He could’ve picked up all kinds of sickness in that time, and had no humans to care for him…

But this was _Cas_ they were talking about. The most well-meaning, helpful, sweet, strong, resilient cat Dean had ever known. He was beautiful, and kind, and he loved Dean. He loved Dean for everything he was, unconditionally. He never thought ill of Dean, no matter what. Dean could only give him the same—_knew_ he could never give Cas anything less.

“No. I don’t believe it. He’s just scared. Cas is the strongest guy I know, he isn’t_ sick_.” Dean persisted, and Benny seemed to sigh, dropping his head to hide a small smile.

“Okay, but even if he isn’t sick, the humans _think _he is. And you know what that means,” Benny tilted his head evocatively. They’ll_ kill_ him, is what it meant.

“If I could just _talk_ to him, I know I could help him,” Dean devised. If he could just talk to Cas, tell him it’ll be alright, that if he lets the humans touch him, they won’t hurt him.

“And how do you suppose you do that?” Benny asked. He turned and gestured with his head at the stacks and stacks of boxes in the next room. “He’s all the way over there on the far side, about four boxes up. How do you plan on_ reaching_ him, much less talking to him?”

Dean caught his tongue between his teeth, concentrating hard. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

*

Dean schemed all night long, thinking of ways to get up to Cas. There was the tall furry tree in the rec room, it was about tall enough to reach four boxes up. Then there were boxes and things on the floor, not high enough to stand on top of, but maybe if they pulled them on top of each other…

When they got down to the rec room, Benny was standing tall, waiting to greet them. Dean greeted him appreciatively, bowing his head and letting Benny groom his brow. He valued any ally at this point, and Benny was a welcome comrade-at-arms. Sam greeted him with a cautious sniff, and they circled up on the slippery ground.

The plan was to get through the door to where all the boxes were, get up to Cas, and talk to him and explain that everything was alright, he was safe and protected here. Dean explained his idea briefly, gesturing with his nose at the door, and the boxes stacked high, looming like towers. The task seemed insurmountable, but Dean wasn’t about to give up on Cas, not for a second.

He turned hopefully to Sam. The tall tom was sitting with his feet all neatly pressed together underneath him, long mane puffy with anxiety. The frown on his face was unreadable, but he caught Dean’s eyes carefully.

“I’ll need everyone’s help on this,” Dean said calmly, “are you with me?”

Sam sighed and tilted his head. “Yes. You know I’d do anything for Cas. I’m with you.”

Dean beamed at him as Sam looked sympathetically back, and Benny puffed with pride, then all three of them jumped as a strange, tiny cat appeared behind them, waltzing out of the shadows like he’d always been there.

“I’m with you, too,” the strange cat said. He was light-coloured, with a white belly, and thin stripes across his head and back, and ringing his tail like a raccoon, however, and most alarmingly, he appeared to have no legs. Dean stared at him as he walked through them and planted himself in the middle of their group—his legs were so short, he looked like his was permanently in pounce-posture.

“And _who_ are you?” Benny frowned at the stranger, eyes travelling across him from bottom to top, which wasn’t a particularly long journey.

“I’m interested in helping out a friend in need, that’s all,” the small one spoke, his voice a quirky lilt, “I’m _Gabriel,_ if you must know.”

“What happened to your legs?!” Dean asked tactlessly, unable to help himself, with Sam rolling his eyes in response.

“It’s called ‘Munchkin’, jackass,” Gabriel rolled his eyes with a gravity to equal even Sam, settling down on his rear and making himself at home in the group. Dean shook his head in confusion.

“Why would you want to help us?” Dean asked with a frown.

“I’m curious about this Castiel character,” Gabriel answered firmly, tail swishing hypnotically back and forth on the slippery floor. “I help you get up there, you let me talk to him, that’s all I ask.”

Dean grit his teeth. “And why should we trust you?”

“So suspicious!” Gabriel made a scandalized face, looking back and forth between the other cats in the circle, as though they should all be quite horrified that Dean _dare_ ask a question like that. “I’ve been here longer than anyone. I know basically everyone here. I’ve never done anything to hurt you, specifically. Need another reason?” he said with no measure of arrogance, but instead like he was stating the facts.

“And honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m much better at_ hiding_ than any of you, given how easily I figured out your plans while _Garfield_ here was blabbering on like a _dog_—”

“What did you call me?!” Dean lunged forward, and it took Sam’s teeth on the back of his neck to keep him from pouncing the small cat before him. He growled instead, a low rumbling sound in his belly, taunting the other cat, daring him to return the favour.

Gabriel stood up on his haunches, the effect less intimidating and more like a kitten standing up to an adult tom. Sam towered over him, but he listened politely, if not cautiously. He always tended towards the “think before you talk” method, unlike Dean, who preferred action. Gabriel backed away with a petulant frown on his face.

“Listen. All I ask is you give me a chance to talk to Castiel, and you can use my services however you please,” Gabriel explained, “there’s no catch, and only a few secrets.”

*

Not without a few more complaints, the trio enlisted Gabriel’s help. Ignoring Dean’s suggestion that they use Gabriel as a _stepping stool_ to get up the wall of boxes, Sam and their new ally seemed to work together well enough, probably because Gabriel seemed remarkably intelligent while acting like a total smartass: a personality dynamic Sam was quite used to dealing with.

The first step of their plan was to get a hold of the furry tree: the four of them could push it across the ground with their shoulders, if they could wrest control away from its current and only inhabitant, Kevin, a young thing mourning the loss of his mother. The pure grey cat sat perched at the very top of the tree and resisted every attempt to communicate with him or tempt him down, forgoing food and socializing, all day long, until the humans finally removed him from his post at the end of the sun-up.

Dean watched the young one all day from his position circling the base of the tree. Sam tried to explain their situation from a distance but no answer came, so after shouting for what seemed like hours, he gave up and retreated to the edge of the room, watching and regrouping from the side. Dean didn’t cease his pacing, stalking back and forth across the base of the tree, over and over, restless until he couldn’t take it anymore and started to climb the tree himself.

“Dean, don’t—” Sam hissed, but Dean was already halfway to the top. Benny watched and Gabriel shuffled out of the way to bathe disinterestedly, trying to look uninvolved. Dean didn’t see any of their reactions, however, too occupied with climbing, eyes focused on the target above him.

Dean got to the top platform and the cat on top was ready to pounce him straight away. He crouched, sleek grey limbs all poised to spring, but he didn’t move, keeping a wary distance from Dean. His eyes wary and droopy from lack of sleep, that much was clear, as Dean watched him carefully, then circled up across from him and planted himself down.

Crouching down to his height, he could see the young one more closely and the effects of his mourning more clearly. His fur was messy and stiff, like he hadn’t washed in days, and he had a wild look in his watery eyes, like he was ready to pounce—or faint, Dean thought sadly, whichever came first.

“Hey,” Dean began to creep closer to him, but the young cat’s eyes widened and he hissed, pulling his ears back. “Whoa, it’s alright. I just wanna talk.”

Kevin’s eyes darted around like he was looking for something stalking him, but Dean kept his eyes focused only on him, like he was the only thing in the world. The only thing that mattered at the moment, anyway.

“I came up here to ask you what happened to your mother, but I realized it doesn’t matter,” Dean began and the cat hissed in anguish.

“Doesn’t matter?! They killed her!” Kevin shrieked, and his voice was creaky like he hadn’t used it in a long time. “They left her in there with that_…thing, _and it _killed _her!”

Dean got up on his hackles, trying to use his larger size to convince the younger cat to retreat. Kevin backed away so he was nearly to the edge of the platform. He didn’t want to fight, that much was clear. He was just too miserable. Dean’s heart sank and he let his whiskers droop in sympathy.

“I know it’s tough! I know! I lost my mom, too,” Dean said loudly, going quieter when he knew he had the yearling’s attention, “I…I lost her a long time ago, but you know what? It doesn’t matter_ how _she died, because it’s done and she’s gone and all that’s left is the pain.”

Kevin looked down, ducking his head into his front paws. He looked miserable.

“It hurts. A lot. Because even though that’s not how it goes, you feel like you were supposed to protect her…” Dean’s eyes started to water. He realized he hadn’t talked about this kind of thing in a long, long time. Maybe _ever._ It was like cleaning a wound—a tongue scraping across the injured flesh stung, tore, bled…but when it was all over and the wound was clean and the skin fresh, it was ready to begin to heal.

“But it doesn’t have to be like that. Because we…we protect each other,” Dean explained, looking down, pupils widening as he imagined Sam down below, looking up at him expectantly with his wide, shiny eyes, the same ones that had stared up at him since he was a newborn kitten, with eyes barely opened. “We have each other. Me and Sam, my brother, we protect and care for _each other_.

“And Cas…” Dean’s voice caught. “My m…”

Dean stopped himself from saying the word, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Kevin was old enough to even get what it meant, but he felt his heart clench in about a hundred different ways that were new and scary and he didn’t want to think about, so he skipped the word altogether and settled on something safer.

“My _best friend_, Cas, he’s with us, too. The three of us, we take care of each other now, we help each other through the pain, and the loneliness, and…we can help you, too.”

Kevin lifted his head, his ears pulled back and eyes wide with tears. “I just miss her so much…” he moaned, and dropped his head in between his front paws, burying his nose in the fur of his foreleg.

“I know, buddy,” Dean slinked forward, carefully watching his feet, but Kevin wasn’t about to run or fight anymore. He moved closer, nearer and nearer until he could lean down and gently nuzzle Kevin’s cheek, the soft bits behind his ears, smooth the fur on his forehead. Kevin leaned into the touch and Dean kept grooming, gently smoothing down the tufts of messy hair, combing it out with his tongue. They curled together, for just long enough that the light started to leave through the streaked window behind them, Kevin’s head curled under Dean’s foreleg, and Dean breathing gently into his fur.

“My…friend, Cas?” Dean whispered, feeling Kevin shift beneath him, turn so they were nose-to-nose. The young one’s eyes were still watery, but he listened intently. “He’s…he’s in trouble. He’s stuck in his cage, and we need to get to him. If you could help us…I’d really appreciate it.”

Kevin nodded immediately, nose wet and cold, but with the closest thing to a smile on his face he’d had since Dean had first seen him.

*

The next sun-up it was time to put their plan in motion. Dean was jittery, unable to stand still until the humans finally came and opened his cage and let him and Sam down into the other room with the soft floor and pretend-mice on the ground. Benny and Gabriel and Kevin were there already, huddled in a circle, heads ducked conspiratorially. The five cats waited until there were no humans in sight and then dashed for the furry tree, throwing their bodies against it.

Dean and Benny pushed with their foreheads and Sam went around the front and gripped a long strip of pretend-bark with his teeth and pulled. Kevin used his long, lithe body to stand on his hind-legs and push the trunk of the tree. Dean was putting in such earnest effort, frantic to complete their task that he didn’t notice that Gabriel wasn’t assisting.

“Hold up a sec, Shere Khan,” the little cat spouted suddenly, nosing at Dean, and the four stopped pushing. “Lemme up top so I can navigate for you.”

“What, so you don’t have to help?” Dean spat back instantly, on edge with panic that they weren’t going to get the tree across the ground in time. His fear showed itself by way of frantic anger, and he pulled back his ears with intent.

“Just let me get up there!” Gabriel shouted back, voice so massively loud and booming for such a tiny cat, it shocked everyone in the party. His eyes were wide and the pupils tiny slits, a wave of energy coming off of him unlike any of the group had seen in him before.

Dean lowered his shoulders wordlessly so that Gabriel could climb up onto his back and get up the tree, which was difficult for him to do alone with his half-legs. Dean wasn’t entirely convinced but they had no time to argue. They _had_ to get to Cas. If they didn’t… No. That wasn’t an option. They _had_ to, and that was that.

“Left! Over towards the door,” Gabriel shouted directions from the top of the tree while Dean and Benny pushed and Sam and Kevin steered. Some of the other residents of the place were taking notice of their efforts but keeping their distance, hanging back and watching curiously from afar, but Dean didn’t notice them at all. He was focused on moving the right direction, taking the right path, the one that would lead him to Cas.

“There!” Gabriel shouted and the party halted. He went quiet after that and Dean was halfway up the tree when he heard the cat utter, “hey, little brother.”

Dean could hear as Cas answered cautiously, voice little and weak like he’d gone days without food or sleep. As much as it filled him with relief and unabashed _joy_ to hear that voice again, the panic that stirred in his heart never really subsided as he hauled himself up the branches of the tree.

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?” Castiel said softly, and Dean’s heart fluttered wildly, pulling himself higher up the tall tree, past the rows of cages, up higher and higher until he saw Castiel’s cage come into view. The journey which normally took no effort was the longest and hardest of his life, at that moment, crawling paw over paw until he was at the top.

“Long story, Castiel,” Gabriel answered fondly, whiskers twitching with mischief, “but for now, I think there’s someone who’d like to see you…”

Dean leapt forward and took the smaller cat’s place without a second more of hesitation. Finally, finally there before him, looking beleaguered and worse for wear but definitely healthy and alive, was Castiel. His shiny black fur was ratty from neglect and his brilliant eyes were dull with exhaustion, but he was _there,_ alive and warm and beautiful, strong and resilient as Dean knew he would be.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed in awe, his whole body sinking with relief, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answered, and leaned his head against the bars of the cage, pushing what he could of his nose between them. He was overjoyed when he felt Cas’s nose touch his, cold and dry but familiar, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of him being there again, by his side. Dean wanted more than anything to be able to touch Cas, groom the knots out of his fur, nuzzle his cheek and stroke his head, his cheeks, his forehead, touch those soft, attentive ears…the distance between them was unbearable, and Dean knew it would only continue if he didn’t do something soon.

“Listen,” Dean began with a little hitch of breath, “I know you’re scared, but you have to let the humans take you.”

“What?” Castiel froze, his whole body going stiff and the hair down his spine standing up on end. His eyes went wide with terror and betrayal, backing away from Dean. Watching his face recede into the darkness was one of the most frightening things Dean had ever seen and he almost leapt forward and smashed himself into the bars.

“I know it’s scary, but they need to take you,” Dean explained, desperately trying to keep his voice calm. “They need to take you and look at you and see that you’re not sick, and if you keep fighting them they…they’ll kill you.”

Castiel’s shiny black ears flattened against his head and he sunk down into the floor of the cage, going into defense mode. “I’ll fight them. I’ll fight them all off! I won’t die here!”

“No, no! Cas!” Dean all but shouted, aware of the human voices, muffled in the distance, but coming closer. “If you don’t let them take you, they’ll kill you! Cats that fight humans too much get killed. It happened to my dad. If they think you’re too aggressive or…Cas, they _will kill you_ if you don’t let them!”

Castiel was sunk so deep into his cage he could barely be seen by the light. He looked like if at that moment Dean went in to comfort him, Cas would fight him. It was terrifying, seeing Cas like that, helpless and alone, his fur in mats and his eyes wide with terror.

“Cas, I can’t…I don’t know what I would do without you,” Dean stuttered out, “after everything…I don’t want to lose you. So please. For me.”

Castiel didn’t answer for a long moment, the silence between them spreading out like a blanket, dark and heavy. Dean felt so exposed and flayed raw it was like a cold wind came right up against him. He couldn’t speak, throat dry and mouth stuck shut.

“I don’t trust the humans,” Castiel answered softly, finally, creeping towards the bars of the cage, each step measured and silent on the slippery floor, “but I trust you.”

Dean nodded his understanding, eyes wide with hope. “I promise you, Cas.”

“I love you,” Castiel said, eyes wide in the shadows of the cage, glossy and hopeful. Dean stared at him helplessly.

“I…_Cas_,” Dean let out with exasperation mixed in with hope. What was he supposed to say to that? No one had ever said that to him, save his mother. He had no idea how to respond, he just pressed his nose to Cas’s through the bars: a half-kiss, the promise of a full one to come later. He felt Cas’s nervous sigh before pulling away, saw his bright eyes dark in the shadow of the box.

The humans were coming back into the room and Dean tried not to flinch. In seconds he’d be separated from Cas again, and this time he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Every time he’d had to watch Cas being taken from him it tore a deeper hole in his heart.

“Don’t go,” Castiel whispered, sensing Dean’s disquiet despite how desperately the other tom was trying to hide it.

“I promise, I’ll be here when it’s over,” Dean whispered back, and by then the humans were in the room, bustling and making noises. They plucked Dean from the tree and put him on the ground, shooed Sam, Gabriel, Benny and Kevin back into the sun room, and replaced the tree quickly, undoing what was a week’s effort for the group in seconds.

Dean sighed and blinked back tears, trying not to moan with sadness. This time when the humans took Cas, he didn’t struggle. Dean had never needed to trust in humans more and never was he more scared to.

*

The next day, Dean recognized Cas’s scent in the room again, a little muted and worse-for-wear, but there, and unmistakable. Dean was so anxious he couldn’t sit still, pacing the windowsill all day in between thoroughly and roughly bathing Sam _and_ Kevin at least thrice each.

Then, the day following, Castiel was finally brought out to the sun room. He looked skinny, tired, and there were white cloths wrapped tightly all around his midsection, but otherwise, he looked fine. Healthy. Happy.

Dean practically attached himself to Cas’s side, nudging at him with his forehead while he rested and recovered. Castiel couldn’t recall what the humans did to him, but knew that he felt much calmer now that it was over. The other cats came to gawk at him, asking after who he was and where he came from, and so Benny and Gabriel acted as mismatched bodyguards, one on either side of the resting couple, keeping stragglers from bothering them while they recuperated.

That night, though they slept separately, their scents were so intertwined that Dean and Castiel both slept soundly, and Sam was even half-disgusted by the height of his brother’s gushiness. He rolled his eyes at Dean’s doe-eyed expression, but smiled when he turned away.

The next few weeks were quiet, if not a little boring. Getting used to living indoors—and only indoors—was difficult, but the company was good and the food was plentiful. There was nowhere private, however, so anything Sam, Dean, and Castiel said to one another they could guarantee would be heard by at least five other cats. The trio was content to sit in silence instead, piled up and enjoying each other’s warmth, Castiel’s head on Dean’s outstretched forelegs and Sam’s bushy tail wrapped around both of them.

Kevin, having become more sociable lately, flitted about the sun room, exploring every corner, and greeting every human who came in. He quickly caught and held the attention of a family of three humans, who took him away and perceivably to their own home. Dean and Sam were sad to see him go, but hoped that the yearling would be living in a better place from now on.

One morning Castiel arrived without the cloths, revealing a bare, hairless patch of belly that made Dean chuckle. The white skin looked stark and out-of-place among Cas’s soft black fur, and it also turned out to be fantastically sensitive, which was a fact that Dean exploited whenever he got the chance.

For several more sun-ups-and-downs the three lived in relative harmony. Dean and Castiel conversed often with Benny, who told them tales of his long and unbelievable life as a wild cat who escaped from his home one day after his human threw him against a wall and fractured his leg, and he went to live outside instead. Castiel nodded sympathetically while Dean stared in open-mouthed awe at the bristly tom. Sam spent time talking with Gabriel, whose stories were even _more_ fantastic than Benny’s, but when he occasionally offered anecdotes about how Castiel was as a tiny, rotund kitten, Dean’s ears perked right up.

Dean followed Sam’s lead, and wherever Dean went, Castiel followed. They made a lively trio for a good, long time, until one day, when the sun began to grow very cold, a female human showed up who was particularly interested in Sam and Dean.

The human was energetic, with fur of a similar vibrant shade as Dean’s, and she was gentle with the brothers, picking them up one after the other and cooing in their faces—Dean had never understood why they insisted on lifting cats up rather than coming down to their level if they wanted to kiss them—and talking in the humans’ loud, nonsensical language.

She stroked Dean’s fur and scratched his neck and ears, while Sam sat in front of her in the sun room, laughing.

“What?” Dean puffed, dodging a kiss to the nose that landed on his ear instead. “What’s she saying?”

“She says you’re very handsome,” Sam chuckled, his fine eyebrow whiskers rising petulantly.

“Ew,” Dean responded in disgust, “can you tell her I’m taken?”

Sam smiled as the female continued to put her mouth on Dean’s face here and there, on his ear and nose and cheek while Dean spluttered and squirmed, but she insisted on petting and scratching him. The feeling of her dull front claws scrubbing against his forehead wasn’t unpleasant, just, well, he _barely knew_ this human. She was getting a little too comfortable.

“What’s her _problem,_ Sammy?” Dean moaned, pressing against the human’s foreleg with his paws.

“I think…” Sam pondered, eyes widening suddenly with the realization, “she wants to take us with her.”

“What?!” Dean’s fur stood on end and suddenly he needed to get free. He didn’t want to injure the human so he kicked her with his claws retracted until with a jolt of surprise she released him, and he hit the ground and sped across the room.

Castiel started to get to his feet when Dean nearly bowled him over, throwing himself into the other cat and shoving at him.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas mumbled as Dean bit his scruff, attempting to drag him away like he did with Sam when he was a kitten, and into the darkened corner of the sunroom to hide.

Sam hopped down from the ledge and followed them, standing in front of the pair who stood firmly together in the middle of the sunroom.

“I’m not losing you,” Dean muttered, frantically licking Cas’s ears and forehead, “I’m not losing anyone ever again.”

Sam stood vigilant, ears flattened while he watched the human who lived with them and the new human talk in their noisy, chirpy language. He didn’t know what they were saying but the way they gestured and pointed at the three cats with their forelegs was more than disconcerting.

Dean stayed glued to Cas, tail puffed to twice its size with near-hysteria, apparently not caring that he was in view of everyone as he groomed his mate and brother in turns, until his neck was almost exhausted and the pair of them were nearly bald from it, but he couldn’t drop his guard for a minute. All he could think of was being separated from his family again, hearing them cry as they were hauled in separate boxes to who-knows-where. He never wanted to hear those sounds again. But what was he supposed to do against forces so much bigger than himself? He could fight, scratch and bite, but what use was it?

Cas didn’t understand, and Dean didn’t dare reveal it to him. They could be separated, if the humans decided. But Dean wouldn’t let them. Even if it meant a change of heart and biting, scratching and kicking these humans to death, he wouldn’t let them take him. He would live here forever if it was to stay with Cas. For his part, the dark tom realized Dean’s anxiety and nuzzled him under the chin with his nose, licking his cheeks and stroking his forehead with his deft tongue.

Near the end of the sun-up, or what seemed like an endless stretch of time to Dean and Sam, they were pulled from the floor, and to their endless relief, Castiel was too. The three were put in separate boxes that smelled new and strange, hearts hammering with equal urgency until they were certain by each other’s scents that they were put in the same car. Even then Dean was still nervous until he saw both of their faces again, this time on the soft ground of an unfamiliar home.

Dean and Sam climbed out of their boxes immediately, walking to every corner of the room, inspecting the odd things in it, while the female human perched on the floor and watched them. The home smelled like another cat—soft, female—but Dean couldn’t see it just yet and wondered where it was hidden. But there was a fuzzy tree, as well as several raised platforms that Dean was itching to try climbing. There was also food in one corner of the room—new stuff, not the same as the bland stuff they had at the big home, which smelled equally enticing and comforting. Dean actually started to feel warm inside. Sam was by his side, and Cas was right behind him—wasn’t he?

Dean looked back to see Cas was still hiding in his box, trying to look brave but definitely beyond consoling at the moment. Of course, he had never been in a human’s home. A real home, not like the last one, where they had to sleep in tiny boxes with bars every night, but a _home,_ where you were allowed to go anywhere you wanted (and wherever you weren’t allowed, you could sneak into), with soft floors that made no sound when you walked, platforms that looked out onto the sunlit grass, and food and water always in reach.

Dean drew closer, until he could peer into Castiel’s cage, chuckling gently at the state of him. Castiel, who Dean once admired from afar as being the strongest, strangest, most liberated tomcat he’d ever seen, was now huddled in the corner of a box, eyes wider than a rabbit’s just before you pounced on it.

“You okay, tiger?” Dean asked, aware that Sam was now bravely venturing outside of the room and around the corner into the rest of the home.

“Yes,” Castiel answered shortly, although the restless pheromones he was giving off told another story.

“If you don’t come out here,” Dean began, cheekily, giving off a playful scent in return, “I can’t kiss you.”

Castiel sighed before starting to get up and slowly, slowly, as if stalking a field mouse, walking out onto the plush ground. When he was out in the open, eyes darting from one corner to the next, Dean pounced on him, nuzzling forcefully at Cas’s cheek and scenting him thoroughly.

“We can stay here, forever,” Dean whispered, “the three of us. We won’t ever be cold or hungry or wet again,” he nudged playfully at Cas’s head, sniffing his ear and sighing with delight at the supple reaction he gave.

“And the human, you trust her?” Castiel whispered, trying to keep his voice down around the female human, still unsure if their kind could understand cats when they spoke to each other.

“I do,” Dean said, “I think I have to.”

Castiel sighed and flopped down on the spongy floor, right there in the middle, exhausted from the whole ordeal. His heart was still racing as he settled down on his side and let Dean nuzzle him from where he stood over him.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel whispered, his mate’s lips soft against his forehead. “Dean, Dean, Dean…”

Dean echoed the sentiment, his relief untold. He could barely believe their luck, and maybe he never really would: that they could face such cruelty at the hands of humans and such kindness as well. Dean still didn’t know what to think of them. They would stay here now, together, the three of them as a family, with the female human to provide them food and warmth. Well, any warmth Dean and Cas couldn’t provide each other, when the sun went down and the shadows got long…

Dean lied down next to Cas, curling up so that his head rested on Cas’s flank, hearing him purring quietly, for the first time in what seemed like ages. He saw Sam’s tail some distance away, swishing excitedly, the long-haired cat clearly already into something he found intriguing. Dean let out a breath of relief, pressing his nose into Cas’s fur. He felt warm. They were home.


End file.
